Lost Generation
by Last.one.02
Summary: Quick glance at how Hermione and Harry cope with the aftermath of the war. Will include visit to Hogwarts, conversation with McGonagall and Kingsley. Centers mainly around Hermione, with slight HHr, but could be viewed as pure friendship. No character bashing. Inspired by Lost Generation and Remarque


**AN: My first attempt at writing Harry Potter, so please be gentle with me, but don't be scared to let me know what you think.  
It seems quite obvious what inspired this story and maybe only I can see the similarities, but give it a chance and maybe you'll see it too.  
L.  
**

 *****HP*****

" _You are all lost generation." -_ Gertrude Stein

" _In those days we did not trust anyone who had not been in the war, but we did not completely trust anyone."_ – Ernest Hemingway, "A Moveable Feast"

***HP***

The war had ended, but the first time Hermione entered the grounds of her beloved school again was months after it had been torn to pieces and buried under rubble.

She had fled as soon as Voldemort was gone, the Death Eaters were captured and the causalities counted. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, and Harry Potter, the chosen one, walked out of the castle in the haze of victory, right when the loss of parents, friends and loved ones started to hit most of the students there.

The Weasleys gathered around Fred's lifeless body, but Harry and Hermione felt like outsiders in the tight circle. So right after all the wounded were treated and all the dead identified, counted and left in peace, Harry and Hermione shared a look and both realized, that they had to get out of there. Hermione had no magical family members and her muggle parents were safely in Australia, and Harry had lost his parents in the First Wizarding War, though both lost friends and mentors in the war, neither of them lost family.

Their passing was almost unnoticed by the mourners, the victims and the soldiers of the war, though some looked up and waved as the boy, who lived passed with his loyal friend and companion for the past seven years, the only one, who didn't leave him. In fact it was hard to think of time, when the two of them weren't together along with Ron as they formed the Golden Trio.

Harry and Hermione walked in silence to Hogsmeade. Unlike all the other times the two of them were travelling, this time there was no rush, no pressure, no greater motivation, instead they walked slowly. At some point he had taken her hand in his or she took his, it was still unclear. Once they reached Hogsmeade and they saw even more destruction caused by the war, people walking around in confusion and in victorious haze by the burnt down houses and piles of rubble. They never planned on staying there, so once they reached the point, where they could apparate, he squeezed her hand.

"Take us anywhere," he said in coarse whisper.

And she did.

They arrived in front of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"I don't know what left of my parents' house and I really could spend another night in tent," Hermione explained as the building appeared in front of them.

"It's perfect," Harry replied.

They walked inside, fended of the Dumbledore made of dust, without speaking they headed to the same room, where they slept while hunting Horcruxes.

"Should we let Ron know we're here?" Hermione asked once they reached the room.

"Let him mourn Fred, we'll go by the Burrow later," Harry brushed it off.

Hermione agreed, but felt obligated to rise the topic for the sake of their friend, who risked a lot by helping Harry defeat Voldemort and who just lost a brother.

"I'm so tired," Harry said while exhaling loudly.

"Agreed," Hermione replied.

Their unmade beds where still there from last summer. The sheets and blankets on the ground were covered by dust, the bed on the couch was made neatly, but the blanket still had dust covering it. It was a clear indication, that Kreacher was in Hogwarts and hadn't been in Grimmauld place for months, probably since they left after infiltrating the Ministry.

"I suppose you'll want the couch," Harry said.

"Don't be silly. You just defeated the most powerful dark wizard of our age, you deserve the couch. I'll be fine on the floor," Hermione argued.

Harry tilted his head.

"I suppose we could both fit in there," Hermione said with some calculations and after a cold shiver passed her body.

Harry grabbed the blanket and tried to get the dust to fall to the ground, but instead his actions caused the whole room to be full of microscopic dust particles. Hermione casted a silent spell to clear the air.

He dropped his dirty and bloody jacket on the floor, she followed his actions and threw her denim jacket beside his, which caused another burst of dust into the air, but she didn't bother to wave it off.

Harry sat on the edge of the couch and then got on his back. Hermione looked curiously over her friend on the couch and though for a moment about the awkwardness of the situation, but the yawn she couldn't suppress reminded her of the tiredness she felt. So Hermione just climbed on the couch, half-way on top of Harry, with his arm protectively around her as she placed her head on his chest and clutched his sweatshirt as he grabbed a hold of hers. She pulled the blanket over them and closed her eyes, both of them falling asleep in an instance.

The morning came and for the first time in months, there was no urgency. Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt so comfortable – if he ever had felt such comfort and content at all. He could tell by the way Hermione was reluctant to get up, she felt the same. Somehow it felt right to wake up on the couch of house which used to belong to Sirius, but has belonged to Harry's for about two years. It seemed oddly perfect for the two friends to share comfort, warmth and protection, which was probably no longer as needed as it had been during the months they spent on the hunt.

For almost two months, they stayed in Grimmauld Place. To their surprise, Kreacher returned too. The time was spent cleaning the house, making it less grim and of course admiring the heirlooms of the Black house. Harry spent a lot of time in Sirius' old room and otherwise looking over the items now were in his possession.

Hermione was true to herself and spent a lot of time in the library reading different books, but at some point she switched to muggle books she had packed from her home, right before she removed her memory from her parents.

They never went to Burrow or sent a note to Ron about their whereabouts, but Hermione figured it would be first place Ron would come to, if he wanted to find the two. They talked about Ron a couple of times, but neither wanted to intrude the Weasley family while they were mourning. And then the time just went by and then it didn't feel right to go there anymore, for they missed Fred's funeral. In fact they missed a lot of funerals, but they attended too many of them anyway.

So on one morning while having their usual coffee and pancakes in the kitchen, Hermione announced that she was going back to Hogwarts. Harry acknowledged it, but didn't say anything about going with her. She took it as he wasn't coming along.

Right after the breakfast Hermione pulled on her purple sweatshirt, the same one she wore during the final battle at Hogwarts and left 12 Grimmauld place for the first time in months. She decided against apparating instantly and walked down the streets of London with no fear. She still had the sensation of being followed and carefully looked around, her wand close by in case she needed it, but she didn't.

After the enjoyment of wind and sun on her skin faded, she apparated into Hogsmeade and took a familiar walk towards Hogwarts. It felt odd returning there, but she had to do it at some point. The path looked just as it had for the past years, just like every time she had taken the walk with Harry and Ron along with her other friends. But now she was alone.

Hermione tried to remember the joy those landscapes gave her every time she passed them. She tried to hold onto that emotion, but somehow it slipped right through her fingers and she felt indifferent.

The castle on the background became clearer and she reached the gates. She never though it through as the gates were usually kept locked. Still she reached out her hand and pushed the gate, to her great surprise it opened.

Hermione closed the gate behind her and continued her walk towards the school. The lake came to view, along with the whomping willow, edge of the Forbidden Forest, greenhouses and the Viaduct. She passed the Quiddich pitch, which was restored despite being destroyed in the battle. The wooden bridge, which was blown up to protect the school, was still in ruins. The castle itself seemed to have suffered no harm from the distance, but Hermione saw the damage done to it in battle and despite her best efforts to forget, she remembered it all too well.

She reached the courtyard and if she didn't know the damage done to it, she wouldn't have noticed a thing. But there was a crack here and there, some replaced objects, bits of rubble still lying around and of course the grim atmosphere it created.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned away from inspecting the cracks on the walls and noticed professor McGonagall standing at the entry.

"Professor," Hermione replied in surprise.

"I wasn't expecting you, dear, before September," McGonagall said. "But I did expect both you and mister Potter back to help us repair the castle after the…" she didn't finish her sentence, there was simply no need to vocalize the events of May. She did however walk over to Hermione so she wouldn't have to scream over the yard.

Hermione looked down, for a moment embarrassed by her inability to come help, but then looked up again. She couldn't give professor even a good reason for her absence other than her own brokenness and unwillingness to come back to Hogwarts.

"It's okay. I believe you had good reasons for not coming and I do not hold grudge over this. What brings you here now?" McGonagall asked. She didn't notice or ignored the way Hermione bit her lip, lowered her gaze and the uncomfortable look in her eyes, like she always did when nervous or caught in a lie.

"Honestly, I don't even know," Hermione confessed. "I guess I just wanted to see what this place looks like now, and to face what happened here. I needed to see if I could come back at all."

"Oh, dear," McGonagall said sympathetically. She placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder to offer some comfort. "Would you like to come inside the castle?"

Hermione nod with a bit of hesitation

"We have been working nonstop to restore Hogwarts. A lot of students and parents are here, along with members of the Order and some ministry officials, we have had a lot of help and the castle should be ready by the time new schoolyear starts," McGonagall spoke to ease the silence.

"I heard there was going to be a monument somewhere," Hermione said to confirm what she had read from the Daily Prophet.

The newspaper had mainly been covered with pictures of Harry, with some of herself, Ron, McGonagall, Kingsley and others, who fought the war. There was also a full list of casualties of the final battle along with victims from other battles between the Order and the Death Eaters. Hermione suspected it was under Kingsley's persuasion that an article about Sirius Black and the true story of what happened the night he was deemed a murderer came to public, though it was published in Quibbler first. Quibbler also published a list of all the deaths, but there was also a list of killed Death Eaters and muggles, even though Hermione suspected they'd never find out how many muggles had to die because of Voldemort. Even more Quibbler counted all of those, who had died between the wars like Cedric Diggory, Bertha Jorkins and Barty Crouch Sr. to name a few.

"People seem to want some assurance that Voldemort really is gone and some everlasting monument to that," McGonagall replied. "I get the sense that you're not too thrilled with the idea." McGonagall asked, even though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"There should be a monument representing all the loss and sacrifices everybody made to make it happen. I read they want a giant monument of Harry somewhere and I can tell you, that he wouldn't like it. There should be a monument to Dumbledore and Snape and Lupin and Tonks and Fred and Colin Creevey and Sirius and Dobby… It's too many to even count," Hermione said with a heavy sigh.

"Since it will be on Hogwarts' grounds, then I have the final say. Of course I don't think mister Potter would like his statue here, so I am personally leaning towards a phoenix. It's supposed to symbolize rising from the ashes, a rebirth. And I'd most certainly like to have the names of all who fought written on stone, which is supposed to be eternal," McGonagall shared her ideas.

"A phoenix seems fitting," Hermione agreed.

They walked through the hallway towards the Great Hall – place where Voldemort finally died. To her great surprise, the castle looked almost like nothing had happened – as much as Hermione could see. Most of the rubble was cleaned and all the destroyed walls and ceilings had been magically restored. True, there were still some misplaced stones from the walls on the ground, but if Hermione didn't know what it looked before, she wouldn't have thought of them as misplaced at all, instead she'd thought they were there to bring some ancientness into the atmosphere.

She also noticed some missing paintings and statues as well as different carpets and different paint on the walls. It didn't scream of gigantic battle, which happened just months before, but it felt strange since decorations were rarely changed in the castle.

"We didn't think restoring everything exactly like it had been was right. Countless historic paintings were destroyed beyond restoration and the suits of armor were largely destroyed while protecting the castle," McGonagall explained when she noticed Hermione looking curiously at the changes.

They arrived at the Great Hall and Hermione expected it to be still in rubbles, but to her great surprise it looked just as she remembered it with 4 long tables and the desk for staff. There were candles floating in the air and the ceiling mimicked the weather outside. Even the giant glass windows were just as she remembered it.

"It looks as if nothing happened," she commented.

"The Great Hall holds so much, I felt it needed to be just as it was," McGonagall explained.

"Yeah, it has the glory and greatness, maybe it's best to forget the death in this place. And the death of Voldemort doesn't need a reflection in here. For many this whole castle is a monument and a remembrance of the fight," Hermione agreed.

"And that is unfortunate. I can only hope that all of those, who fought and survived can get over those horrific memories," McGonagall said sadly.

"Same goes for all the teachers and staff," Hermione said.

"Yes, the war took my good colleagues. Thankfully Horace has agreed to stay for one more year, so I only need new DADA, transfiguration and muggle studies teachers. Care to try teaching, miss Granger?" McGonagall asked.

At first Hermione thought McGonagall was joking, but the older woman remained serious.

"I haven't passed my N.E.W.T.s yet," Hermione said calmly.

"I don't think there are wizards, who can argue about you not having enough knowledge or experience in fighting against Dark Arts. Your transfiguration skill is magnificent and I wouldn't be surprised if you've gotten better at that in the past year. And your knowledge of muggles is outstanding, so I deem you fit to teach any of the subjects," McGonagall explained.

Hermione smiles lightly at the compliments. "You put too much of your trust into me. I'm coming back in September, but to study, not to teach," Hermione replied.

"Will mister Potter and mister Weasley be joining you?" McGonagall asked.

"I don't know. I doubt Ron would want to come back to school and Harry probably has a position in the Auror office waiting, so I don't think he's coming either," Hermione explained.

"I believe you could get almost any position in the Ministry if you wanted, just like Potter and Weasley," McGonagall assured.

Hermione nod.

"Oh, there is one thing I'd like you to see," McGonagall said and turned around, motioning for Hermione to follow her. They crossed the hallways and climbed stairs until they reached the headmaster's office entrance. McGonagall didn't need to use the password, instead the stone gargoyle stepped aside revealed the staircase.

"We haven't been really concentrating in restoring the security so for now my office is free to use for everybody," McGonagall explained.

They reached the office, which used to belong to Dumbledore for a long time and Snape in the previous school year. McGonagall had cleaned the office and so the objects were placed at random places, which probably made locating specific objects quite complicated. McGonagall caught Hermione's attention and pointed to the wall, where the pictures of former headmasters were hanging.

It was until Hermione noticed the latest addition to the wall – Severus Snape – she realized, what McGonagall wanted to show her. He was dressed in black robes and his greasy black hair framed his face, just like Hermione remembered him. He was apparently asleep as was Dumbledore besides him.

"I thought you'd like to see him in his rightful place," McGonagall said.

"He deserves to be there. Even though he tried to make potions lessons as unpleasant as possible for Harry, he was one of the bravest and greatest wizards. He helped a great deal in defeating Voldemort and his sacrifices should be known," Hermione spoke. "Harry will be glad to know about it," she added.

"How is Harry doing?" McGonagall asked as a concerned parent. In a manner, she had been the tough, but fair mother figure to all the students of Hogwarts, especially those of Gryffindor house.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I guess as well as can be expected. He's mourning and spending a lot of time in Sirius' old room, looking through old photographs and doing whatever. Luckily his nightmares are less frequent now than they were past year. Voldemort's gone and that gives some relief, for now, he's healing. He's learning to live with his scars," Hermione concluded.

"And you, dear?"

"About the same. I'm dealing with everything, even though I really didn't lose anyone in any of the wars. Guess I'm the lucky one," Hermione said with a fake smile.

"What do you mean?" McGonagall asked and furrowed her brow.

"I grew up in a muggle family, so I really didn't know anyone, who died during the First Wizarding War. And in this one, I didn't lose any family as my parents are somewhere in Australia well and alive," Hermione started. "I mean both Harry and Neville lost their parents, though Neville's parents are alive, but they might as well be gone. Ron, Ginny, Bill, Percy and George lost a brother, Teddy lost his parents. Luna nearly lost his father and she was imprisoned. Yet, I didn't lose anyone except friends, like we all did. I shouldn't feel like this. Even in the final battle, I barely fought anyone. I wasn't wounded, I didn't actually saw my friends dying – I should be fine," Hermione explained her conflicted feelings.

McGonagall wiped her wand and made a couch appear out of nowhere. She gestured towards it and both women took seats. McGonagall took Hermione's hand in hers and held it between both of hers.

"Hermione, you gave away pieces of yourself in the name of this war. You too have faced Voldemort and his Death Eaters more times than one 18-year-old girl should. For the past year, you sacrificed everything to fight against him, to win this war. You amongst your dear friends had to give away your childhood to win this war. And maybe not from the final battle, but you too carry scars from this war and it doesn't make them less real. What you saw, felt and experienced gives you every right not to be okay," McGonagall tried to reassure her student.

Hermione nod thankfully, but the words didn't quite reach her just yet. "Everything's different," Hermione said quietly.

"Yes," McGonagall agreed. "I don't know if it would offer you some comfort, but before Voldemort was destroyed, I had a nice duel with Dolohov and he didn't make it out alive. As for so many it was Voldemort or Bellatrix, who caused sorrow, then I've been informed, that Dolohov almost killed you in the Ministry of Magic," she said. Even after the words left her mouth she wasn't sure if telling Hermione about more death was the right call.

"Seems like he got what he deserved," Hermione said simply. Her own words surprised her and she gasped loudly, then covered her mouth with her free hand. "I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from," she said quickly after recovering.

"It's the war speaking, miss Granger. We're all changed by the events. Us, who we made it through alive, are burdened by the knowledge of everything that happened, grief for our friends, who died in the fight and of course memories from the horrible battles. With that we have the responsibility to build the world up again and build it better than before. I'd like to believe that you, mister Potter, mister Weasley, miss Lovegood, mister Longbottom and all of the others, who fought bravely, but more importantly became leaders in the eyes of their companion and the society, the Wizarding World is now looking up to you to see if you're willing to continue making the changes. And you are most certainly the brightest witch of your generation and I can only assume that they expect greatness from you. Maybe one day you'll even be expected to take over the Ministry and become the Minister for Magic," McGonagall explained.

"I know. I've read the Daily Prophet too. Between death they keep speculation what we'll do and they are not shy to describe what they call heroics during the final battle. I guess we'll see, what comes, because for now it would be good to just breathe," Hermione said.

"Then breathe and I'll expect you back in September," McGonagall said with a genuine smile and squeezed her hand once more.

"We'll be back."

A voice came from the doorway. Both Hermione and McGonagall turned and stood up in surprise, only to see Harry standing beside a desk covered with strange magical objects and some books.

"Potter," McGonagall said in surprise.

"I thought you didn't want to come back here just yet," Hermione commented.

"I didn't, but I couldn't let you come here and face it all alone," Harry explained.

He walked to the women and took his place beside Hermione.

"Professor, I'd like to finish my studies the next year," he said.

McGonagall smiled proudly.

"And I'll be glad to have the both of you back here," she said.

Harry and Hermione shared a knowing look and a rare smile of understanding.

Another set of footsteps were heard in the distance heading towards the office. All three of them turned around to face the intruder. Out of habit, both Harry and Hermione reached for their wands and by the time another male figure entered the room, they had their wands out and pointed towards the doorway.

Kingsley was shocked by the scene in front of him. He had only come up to the office to have a word with McGonagall, but to his great surprise the wands of Hermione and Harry were pointed at him. His first reaction would have been to get his own wand, but to his great relief he saw the wands pointed at him being lowered and finally tucked away from sight.

"Hello to you too," he said.

Harry and Hermione were visibly embarrassed by their reaction, but neither could help it as they had been ready to protect themselves at any given moment for the past years, ever since Voldemort returned.

"We're sorry about…" Hermione trailed off and waved with her hands, trying to make sense in the situation.

Newly appointed Minister for Magic seemed tired and worn out. He had more wrinkles covering his face and bags under her eyelids from lack of rest. He was dressed in muggle clothes, which were covered by dust and had several holes in them.

"It's okay, the transition from constant danger to peace can take some time," Kingsley said easily. "At this moment seems like the only people we can trust are the ones who fought beside us," he added.

"And we didn't trust everybody even then," McGonagall added and glanced over at the portrait of Severus Snape, who was mistrusted and hated by so many, who were closest to him. He died as a villain, while protecting the ones, who made him that way, but he became hero after his passing and the ones, who were first to want him dead, became the ones to lift him up and place him amongst the heroes of war.

"True. But now everybody wants the true story and memoirs of those, who fought and survived. I assume both of you have been bombarded by journalists and random people wanting to hear what happened in Hogwarts and if Voldemort really is gone," Kingsley continued conversation.

"Actually we haven't spent that much time outside. Owls have arrived, but we haven't really opened most of them," Harry said.

"Wise choice. It's crazy, what they want to know and how they bend the truth. I could only hope it dies out soon," Kingsley said with a sigh. He was obviously tired of everything, but he was tasked to rebuild the society and to clean the Ministry from corruption and misuse of power.

"They should just leave it be, I'm sure there will be loads of books soon published about the events of the past year," Hermione said.

"I heard there was going to be a biographical book about you, Harry," Kingsley said knowingly.

"And I'm the last one to know about it," Harry exclaimed.

"I didn't know about it either," Hermione tried.

"Great, so I'm second to last," Harry commented, but meant no harm towards Hermione.

"If it's an autobiography of you, then I'm pretty sure I get at least a chapter or two. Or haven't you forgotten Rita Skeeter and her articles about your love life, which included me. And that is something I wouldn't like to revisit. Only now except Krum, they can put Ron's name and works just as well," Hermione said bitterly.

"So instead of being the so called heroes and saviors of this world, we can appear in some column with speculations of Granger's choice? Yeah, I'd like to see how your love life gets played out on page four and if you'll pick me this time or go with Ron," Harry continued.

"Don't worry, you're the chosen one, of course I'm expected to choose you," Hermione snapped.

Kingsley smiled at the banter between two survivors of this war, which seemed so normal and everybody could use a bit of that normalcy.

"Unfortunately, I can't control the press, that's not what our world is supposed to be like. But I can assure you I'd be reading those articles of your love life, not because I'd have a favorite or I somehow approve the invasive journalists and their speculations, but because we all deserve to have a good laugh after the war," Kingsley said.

"Then you should read the Daily Prophet, because Miss Granger and Mister Potter made headlines with their lack of public appearances. I read just this morning how they eloped and escaped from the terrors, as Potter screams in his sleep and Granger is still not sure if choosing Harry was the right decision. There was also something about possible pregnancy, but I got called away, so I never got to finish the article," McGonagall informed them.

"Great," Hermione muttered.

Kingsley laughed good heartedly. "You know muggles are also very attached to their celebrities and their personal lives. When I worked for the muggle Prime Minister, I heard a lot about it. They were obsessed with the death of the ex-wife of their prince, someone named Diana, and there was a great deal over this football player, who is dating someone from this girl band Pepper Girls or something like that. The people seemed really invested in their lives," Kingsley added.

"Guess same goes for the wizards," Harry commented.

"We're not as different from the muggles than one thinks after all," McGonagall concluded.

The silence fell over the room as the new gossip of Harry and Hermione was shared and the topics suddenly died out.

"Well, actually Minerva your assistance is needed in the Gryffindor tower, that's why I came," Kingsley suddenly remembered the reason for his visit.

McGonagall nodded.

"As for the two of you," he turned to Harry and Hermione, "I believe you could get any job you want and there are so many doors open for the two of you, but if you decide to pursue a career in the Ministry of Magic, then I can assure you that there will be a position for the both of you. I could use people like you, people who I can trust, while the wizarding world gets rebuilt. Think about it and come see me, if you want this, together we'll find something that would interest you."

"That's very kind of you," Harry said and suddenly the idea of skipping a year of education and becoming an auror right away seemed quite appealing.

"I will be attending Hogwarts for another year to earn my N.E.W.T.s and then I'd probably like to come work for the Ministry," Hermione replied in her typical manner.

"If that's your wish, then I'm sure I can find a position for you after you're done with your studies," Kingsley said.

Kingsley turned to McGonagall and tilted his head towards the exit.

"I'm coming," McGonagall said and rushed past Harry and Hermione. "I trust you can find your way around," she said looking back and left the office without waiting for a reply. Kingsley followed him out, so Harry and Hermione were left alone in the office.

"Snape's portrait is on the wall, right beside Dumbledore," Hermione said.

Harry looked around and noticed indeed Severus Snape in his usual manner, but his eyes were closed and Harry found that Snape might have scared so many students, notably Neville, as a professor, but that portrait didn't seem scary at all.

"Where he should be," Harry approved it.

"So, you're really coming back this fall?" Hermione asked.

Harry nod. "I think so. Though becoming an auror right away seems just as good," he said.

"I can't even begin to say how wrong this is. But for the sake of this moment and everything, I'm gonna let it be," Hermione said.

"Good girl," Harry said.

He held his hand out and Hermione looked puzzled for a moment before taking it. Together they walked out of the office, without looking back and back outside the castle. They didn't see Snape in the portrait opening his eyes and shaking his head in disapproval. "Another Potter gets the brightest witch. Something must be done about it," he said in cold voice.

"Let them be, Severus," replied tired Dumbledore from his portrait.

Harry and Hermione didn't hear any of that as they walked through the familiar, yet oddly strange hallways and staircases until they reached the courtyard, where they took a direction towards the lake. They sat down on the grass and gazed over the water.

"The castle is so different from the last time we were here," Harry commented.

Hermione said silent.

"It's good to see they have made changes. If they'd restored everything just like it was, then it would've looked like they wanted to cover up the fight and the death that happened there," he continued.

Hermione still didn't reply.

Harry turned to his best friend and slid his arm around her. Hermione briefly looked at him, then turned back to the lake. He waited for her to speak her mind, because he knew there was something bothering her.

And finally she did.

"You know muggles had also these wars. About 70 years ago, there was this First World War and Second World War, there was roughly 20 years between those two, just like First and Second Wizarding Wars. They had multiple countries and everything in the fight, then we had just us. It was more after the first war, when the boys, who fought in the war and all of those, who had to live with the scars the war caused, were called the lost generation. I read this book by Remarque, who is part of this muggle lost generation, and even though the means of war are different, war is still the same," Hermione said out her comparison between the two worlds, which had been in her mind for quite some time.

"Feels like I'm part of the lost generation too. Hogwarts is home, safety and happy place, but it was taken away from us. Now it doesn't feel the same, like I no longer belong here. I can't feel anything and it's so frustrating. I think I'm as lost as those boys, who fought in the muggle wars a long time ago," Hermione finished.

"I know. It's hard, but we'll be us again. We'll go see Ron and the other Weasleys, we go back to school and try to live normal life. And we need to hope that somewhere along this we can feel again and we will be found," Harry tried to comfort Hermione, but he realized how Hermione had always been there to comfort him, when he was having doubts, and he had been in that role seldom.

"What if I don't? What if I get married, have kids and work at the Ministry, but I still can't feel anything? What if I'll stay this numb forever?" Hermione asked.

Harry placed his hand on her cheek and ran his thumb over her smooth skin. "Feel that?" he asked and tightened his hold around her with his other hand.

Hermione looked at Harry through tears and nodded slightly.

"You can feel, you just need to focus on the good in life, focus on the future, not the past," Harry said, proud of himself as he though he made perfect sense and helped his friend.

Hermione considered his words for a moment and nod. She shifted and Harry's hands fell to the ground, because Hermione decided to lie down on the grass. She placed her head in Harry's lap and stared at the sky, where clouds were flying over the sun.

Harry placed one hand beside him for support and the other ended up on Hermione's abdomen. Both of them had their eyes closed, the fresh air, sunlight and newfound freedom were all they needed. Sudden drop of water landed on Harry's cheek and he opened his eyes. Another droplet followed and then it started to rain. Harry's vision quickly became blurred by the water stains and he got up straight, but to his great surprise Hermione seemed to oblivious to the falling rain as she hadn't moved, she still had her eyes closed.

Harry bended over to cover as much of her as he could.

"It's raining, let's go," Harry said as he wiped away the fallen droplets from her face.

"I like rain," she claimed.

"You're crazy," he said and did his best to keep dry, but failed as the rain poured down harder.

Harry attempted to get up, but Hermione grabbed his hand and kept him on the ground.

"Give it a chance, you'll like it too. Close your eyes and let the rain wash everything away," Hermione said and finally opened her eyes. Harry couldn't say no to those brown orbs, filled with sadness, but also a little piece of hope. He chose to mimic her, so he ended up flat on his back on the ground with rain pouring all over him. She felt Hermione shiver against him, so he pulled his legs from under her and moved beside her, then in a swift movement he covered her body with his and wrapped his hand around her. His nose was against his neck and he suddenly remembered how much he liked her perfume, when it filled his nostrils. Hermione moved automatically and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but she didn't seem to be angry, but a slight glimmer seemed to be in her voice.

"Keeping warm," he said, true he was rather chilly. "Keeping you warm," he added. "Or maybe I am just like any other male and want to feel a woman's body under me," he joked.

"Thanks," she said with laughter. "Though I have to mention, that you're rather heavy," she added.

Harry pretended to be insulted for a moment, but then rolled around and pulled Hermione with him. She moved on top of him and slid partially to the ground beside him, just like she had been curled up by his side for the past months on the old couch in Grimmauld place.

"I still like the rain," she said sheepishly.

Harry smiled. He took off his glasses, placed one hand under his head and the other went protectively around Hermione. She leaned into his touch, moved her head on his chest and placed a hand beside her head on his chest, so she could feel his steady heartbeats. Hermione closed her eyes again and enjoyed the moment.

Harry discovered that Hermione was right – the rain was rather enjoyable. It felt good to be outside and freely stay like that. He realized that it wasn't about the rain, it was about freedom and trying to remember the school, feel the simple things – and enjoy it all. It seemed odd how falling droplets of water seemed to be washing everything else away.

Then another thought crossed his mind. It felt too right to be there with Hermione, to laugh at foolish things, while he had Ginny – and she had Ron – waiting for them. But there was no Weasley there at that moment, just Harry and Hermione. He realized how he liked Hermione's tender body wrapped around his and how right it felt to have her weight resting on him. It felt right, comfortable and he could stay like that forever.

It felt too right.

And he realized, how during the hunt and through the countless adventure it could have gone that way, he and Hermione could've turned into something more. Maybe they still could?

Maybe once the memories of the war fade, the grief lessens, Daily Prophet loses interest in them and they no longer feel lost, numb and lifeless, maybe then the question will arise once more. Maybe then he gets his answer, why Hermione feels so right and why he never wants live – spend a moment – without her.

Just maybe they were lost, but everything that can be lost, can also be found. Maybe all they really needed was to be found by each other. Or maybe the comfort is just temporary and soon they'll realize, that they don't want each other there, but they just want someone, and at some point they don't want just any person, but they want their Weasley.

***HP***

" _Now we would wander around like strangers_ _in_ _those landscapes of our youth. We have been consumed in the fires of reality, we perceive differences only the way tradesmen do, and we see necessities like butchers. We are free of care no longer – we are terrifying indifferent._

 _We might be present in that world, but would we be alive in it?_

 _We are like children, who have been abandoned and we are as experienced as old men, we are coarse, unhappy and superficial – I think that we are lost."_

\- Erich Maria Remarque, "All Quiet on the Western Front"


End file.
